


Heathens

by ellembee



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prison, Angst, F/M, Superpowers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-10-05 12:20:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10307501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellembee/pseuds/ellembee
Summary: “You have no idea what it’s like here,” Cato says. “Pepper spray and a baton are no match for psychos and meta-humans. We need guns to protect ourselves.”Panem Penitentiary houses the most dangerous criminals in the city. Peeta never imagined his childhood best friend would end up there, or that he’d be the one sliding her dinner through the door.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is inspired by the film _Suicide Squad_ , but it focuses on the prison. There’s no formation of a squad of villains or saving the world. Title is from the song by Twenty One Pilots.

Seven years later, and she looks the same, albeit skinnier and more world-weary, both of which are impressive considering her childhood.

But he recognizes the dark braid hanging halfway down her back, the scowl he used to banish from her face with the right joke.

The orange jumpsuit she wears is new.

“Mellark, are you listening?”

Peeta’s head snaps to the left just as she disappears around the corner, flanked by two guards. He looks up at his new supervisor - Boggs, is it? - and nods.

“Yes sir.”

Boggs holds out an arm, and they both stop.

“Look, I know many people find this job appealing for the pay, but there’s a reason it pays so much, understand?”

Peeta blinks, his mind a beat behind the conversation. He forgot about the pay differential. This prison pays five dollars an hour more than his last one, which means a fatter savings, and escaping this hellhole of a city faster than he originally planned. But he isn’t here for the money.

He’s here for her.

Whether he likes it or not.

“A lot of people can’t handle this place,” Boggs continues. “Every couple of months, I get a wave of new transfers. And every couple of months, those same men and women transfer back.”

“I understand,” Peeta says.

“I’m not sure you do. But you will.”

*

Three days pass before he sees her again.

Three days of screaming, swearing prisoners threatening to kill him, to rip him apart limb by limb. Three days of deranged rambling from the mentally ill, the ones who clearly need to be in a different kind of facility. They beg him to help them escape and throw fits when he ignores them. Thrashing, hitting, yelling.

He’s not sure which ones are worse.

In the past seventy-two hours, Peeta has grown accustomed to the guards’ gross mistreatment of the inmates. He looks away, says nothing, because he can’t risk his new position. Then halfway through his shift, he turns a corner and sees a guard with his hands around Katniss Everdeen’s neck.

Peeta breaks into a run. He opens his mouth to yell, but before he can make a sound, Katniss has freed herself and stolen the guard’s gun in the process.

Blood trickles from a cut on her forehead, threatening to drip into her eye. She cannot wipe it away without moving the gun thanks to the handcuffs around her wrists. There’s a bruise on her cheekbone, a swirl of colors beneath her right eye.

Peeta slows his gait as he approaches. He raises his arms, copying the two guards in front of her.

They lock eyes. If she recognizes him, she gives no indication.

“You’re outnumbered, sweetheart. Better hand over that gun,” Cato warns. His tone does nothing to distract from the fear on his face.

“What the hell is going on?” Peeta demands.

“She attacked us!” the second guard says.

“She attacked you?” Peeta repeats. “Unprovoked?”

The guard nods, his eyes never leaving the gun.

Katniss scowls but says nothing. She moves the gun from side to side in a smooth line, moving from Cato to the other guard then back to Cato. She never lingers on Peeta.

“I doubt she attacked you unprovoked,” Peeta says. “Isn’t that right, Everdeen?”

“Excuse me?” Cato demands, turning toward Peeta and dropping his hands.

Then she’s next to Cato, gun pressed against his temple, digging into his skin. She pushes on his shoulder. In a second, he’s on his knees.

“Everdeen,” Peeta repeats. “I know it’s tempting to kill him. I’ve only been here three days, and I can already tell he’s a psychopathic asshole who probably has more reason to be in here than some of the prisoners.”

“What. The. Fuck!” Cato screams, eyes bulging.

“But there’s no getting out of here. There’s too many guards, too many doors you can’t open. And if you kill Cato, hell if you even wound him, they’ll punish you. You’ll lose your privileges.” He pauses, finds the magic words. “They’ll stop letting you go outside.”

Her gaze flickers over him, and he knows he’s hit a nerve. He reaches out his hand.

“Just give me the gun. Hand it over right now, and we don’t have to report this. It’ll be like it never happened.”

“Bullshit!” Cato yells, spit flying from his mouth. “This bitch is in trouble, big fucking--”

Peeta raises his voice, talking over Cato, “Like I said, it’ll be like it never happened.” He takes a step toward her, and when she doesn’t move, he takes another. He notices the wet patch on her shoulder, and the small drops of water on the ground, dripping off her braid.

“Everdeen?” He reaches out his hand.

After a long moment, she lets the gun drop. She is careful not to touch him as she hands it over.

Peeta glares at Cato. “What the hell are you doing with a gun?”

“You have no idea what it’s like here,” Cato says. “Pepper spray and a baton are no match for psychos and meta-humans. We need guns to protect ourselves.”

Katniss quirks an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I see that’s working out well for you,” Peeta says.

“Fuck you. She’s your problem now.” Cato throws a set of keys at Peeta’s feet before ripping the gun away. He rushes off, the other guard on his heels. Peeta touches Katniss’s elbow, and she jerks away.

He holds up his hands and says, “I’ll bring you back.”

Regulations require a minimum of two guards while escorting a prisoner, but Peeta’s out of luck. It doesn’t matter anyway. Another guard won’t help. She doesn’t need a gun to hurt him, although he seriously doubts the guards know that, or Katniss would be living a very different life behind bars.

When Peeta passes a guard on duty, he ignores the man’s quizzical expression and asks him to send the doctor to Katniss’s cell.

Peeta unlocks the door, but leaves it open as he follows her inside. She sits on the bed, and he stands in front of her.

“Can I…?” He gestures to her face. After a long moment, she nods. He gently grasps her chin and tilts her head up toward the light. The blood trickles back, toward her forehead. He looks around, but of course there is nothing more than a bed, toilet, and a couple of books.

“What’d they do?” Peeta asks. He’s seen the extent of the damage. He has no reason to keep examining her face, yet he doesn’t let go. “Everdeen?” Her gaze is faraway, unfocused. After a moment, he tries a different approach. “Katniss?”

And then she snaps back into herself, gray eyes locked on his.

“Doctor here,” a voice announces.

Peeta immediately takes a step away, his hand falling back to his side. An older, dark-haired man stands in the doorway. Peeta vaguely remembers meeting him on his first day. The badge clipped to the man’s coat reads “Dr. Abernathy.”

“What happened?” the doctor asks, looking from Katniss to Peeta.

“She fell.”

Dr. Abernathy scoffs. “Right. The prisoners here are so damn clumsy.” He gives Katniss a quick onceover. “She’ll be fine,” he says. “No stitches needed.” He cleans the cut and places a bandage over it. “Doesn’t look like a serious _fall_.” He eyes Peeta. “You’re new here, right? You might need to find some better excuses.”

“I didn’t--” Peeta begins.

“I don’t care.” The doctor draws out the last word as he disappears through the open cell door.

“They were staring at us.”

Peeta startles and looks down at Katniss. Her voice is quiet, subdued. He hasn’t heard her speak in seven years, not since the night she cried behind the bakery, apologizing for things out of her control.

“In the shower. They’re supposed to give us privacy, but they don’t even pretend.”

“So you attacked them?” There is no anger or judgment in his tone. He’s just trying to collect the facts.

“They were saying awful things to Annie. I couldn’t let that slide.”

Annie. Peeta tries to conjure a face, but he knows the inmates only by their last names. He bends down in front of Katniss and slides a key into the handcuffs.

“You’re not going to tell them, are you?” she asks.

He slips the cuffs off her wrists and looks up at her. His position is all wrong. He’s vulnerable, crouched in front of her, hands hovering over her rather than his weapon. If someone walked by right now, he’d be written up.

But this is why he’s here. This is why he transferred.

“I won’t tell them what happened with Cato,” he says.

“No, I mean about what I can do.”

His heart stutters in his chest. The years fall away, and they’re twelve again, sharing secrets under the bleachers at school.

He touches her then, barely, his fingertips tracing the tops of her hands. Her skin is warm, burning, just as he remembers.

“No,” he says. “I won’t.”

*

Peeta isn’t surprised when Boggs calls him into his office the next day. While Peeta doubts Cato breathed a word to anyone, the inmates would notice Katniss’s bandage. There would be talk. Whatever the inmates know, the guards eventually do too.

And then there are the cameras.

The video lacks sound, but two things are clear: Katniss lashed out first, and Peeta diffused the situation.

“Normally, I’d be commending you on a job well done. I’d be impressed that a transfer handled a dangerous situation, one that could have easily turned deadly. But I can’t. Do you know why?” Boggs asks, leaning forward in his chair.

Peeta decides there’s no point in playing dumb. “Because I didn’t report it.”

“That’s right. An inmate in my prison held a gun to a guard’s head yesterday, and there isn’t a single report of it anywhere. I believe you know the process for filing the paperwork, Mellark. It’s the same at the county jail you transferred from.”

“I’m aware, sir.”

Boggs folds his hands in front of him as if to say, Well?

“I told Everdeen there would be no report if she handed the gun over.”

Boggs makes a noise in the back of his throat, but says nothing.

“When I came across the fight, Cato had his hands around her neck. She was defending herself.”

“With a gun. Do you know how many people she’s murdered?”

Peeta almost reminds his supervisor that Katniss’s weapon of choice is a bow and arrow, but he manages to keep quiet. It wouldn’t help the situation if Boggs knew Peeta read up on her.

“She could have killed those men,” Boggs continues. “She could have killed you.”

 _No_ , Peeta thinks. She could have killed Cato and the other guard. But not him. He’s not sure where the certainty comes from. He recalls the articles he’s read online, the aerial pictures of a smoking mansion, but he also remembers the way the gun slid past him yesterday. As if he wasn’t there at all.

“Cato shouldn’t have had a gun,” Peeta says.

“No, but that’s a separate matter that I’ve already attended to. I want to know why you think it’s appropriate that an inmate that attacked two guards shouldn’t face punishment.”

“I told her she wouldn’t so she’d hand over the gun. I thought it was the best way to end it quickly and without violence.”

“So are you friends with the inmates now, Mellark? Striking deals with them whenever you wish?”

Peeta’s fists clench at his side. “No, but--”

“But nothing. I don’t care what the hell you promised her. We have a protocol here that _will_ be followed.”

Peeta’s vision grows fuzzy as rage burns a trail down his body. He wants to ask if beating the shit out of inmates on a regular basis is protocol too. If denying them food, mocking them, sexually harassing them is in the employee handbook.

“They were watching them in the showers,” he blurts out.

Boggs lays his palms flat against his desk. “Excuse me?”

“Cato and the other one. Marvel. They were watching the female inmates in the shower and making inappropriate comments.”

“And how do you know that? Did Everdeen tell you?” Peeta opens his mouth to answer, but Boggs cuts him off. “Because she doesn’t speak.”

“What?”

“Selective mutism. That’s the fancy term the doctors came up with for her ‘condition.’ So I can’t imagine an inmate who hasn’t said a word to anyone the entire two months she’s been here suddenly struck up a conversation with the new guard.”

Peeta stares at his supervisor, unsure of what to say.

Boggs rubs his chin as he studies Peeta. “Every once in awhile, I get a transfer who doesn’t care about the money, no, he wants to help these inmates. He thinks he can rehabilitate them. Save them.”

“That’s not me.”

“You better hope you’re right. Now go home. You’re off the rest of the week. No pay.”

Peeta doesn’t argue. He’s just relieved he isn’t fired. He can only imagine the consequences if he loses this job.

And imagine them he does, in vivid, excruciating detail.

*

The day before he returns to work, Peeta stares into his empty refrigerator and realizes he cannot put off shopping any longer.

The walk to the grocery store is less than ten minutes, but the back of his neck prickles the entire time. He doesn’t know why he feels so afraid. It’s not like they couldn’t find him at home. But out here on the sidewalk, surrounded by strangers, he feels vulnerable.

The only place he truly feels safe is the prison. It’s the only place they can’t reach him.

When he returns to his apartment, two bags of groceries in hand, he leans against the closed door, breathing heavily. Muffled music filters through the walls. Heavy footsteps vibrate through the ceiling. Normal noises. Nothing strange.

He spends the afternoon baking, his mind closed off to anything but the recipes he’s memorized.

It’s late, nearly three AM, when he stumbles through the darkness of his kitchen to retrieve a glass of water. He doesn’t see it, but he feels it, the wrongness in the air, the intrusion. He flips the light switch. A photograph of his brother lies perfectly centered on the kitchen table. With a trembling hand, Peeta picks it up.

Across the back of the picture in thick black marker, he reads: _Do better._

He never falls back asleep.

*

When he returns to work, he’s surprised to find that he’s on the rotation that includes Katniss’s part of the prison. He’s even been assigned to bring her dinner.

Which means two things. One, this is a test from Boggs, and Peeta better not fuck it up. And two, Katniss is being kept in isolation as punishment. While they keep her enclosed in a box of a room by herself for the majority of the day, she typically eats both meals with the other inmates.

Hours later, he carries the tray to her door. He knocks twice to give her a warning before he slides the small slot near the top of the door open.

Her gaze softens when she sees it’s him. He wants to say something, but he knows somewhere, Boggs is watching.

Peeta opens the second slot on the door, wider to accommodate the width of the tray. Carefully, he inches it through until she grasps the other side.

For the briefest of seconds, he studies her: dark hair hanging loose around her shoulders, the top of her jumpsuit peeled away to reveal a white tank underneath.

Then he shuts both of the slots and walks away. The entire encounter takes less than thirty seconds, but he replays it over and over in his mind for the rest of the night. He can’t stop imagining her sitting on her bed and staring at an empty cement wall as she eats.

*

He delivers her dinner the next day.

And the next.

On the fourth day, he smuggles a piece of freshly made raisin nut bread into the prison. When he grabs her meal, he removes it from his pocket and peels away the tin foil. It’s slightly smushed, but he places it on the corner of her tray.

Gray eyes meet his when he slides open the top slot of the door. She’s been waiting for him.

“What are you doing here?” she asks.

Her tray is halfway through the bottom slot, but she doesn’t grab it. He silently pleads with her to take it, but her gaze is unwavering. He can’t be caught trying to give her outside food.

Especially when there’s a note concealed inside.

“You suddenly show up two months after I get here...for what? For me?” There’s a hint of desperation in her tone. “This isn’t a coincidence.”

“Katniss, take your dinner.”

Finally, she glances down. Her face contorts with anger. Without warning, she slams her palms against the tray, sending it flying back through the slot and to the ground. Fried beans and rice splatter across Peeta’s pants and shoes.

“Fuck you,” she snarls as he kneels to clean up the remains of her dinner. She smacks the door. “Do you hear me? Fuck you!”

He grabs the bread and shoves it through the slot seconds before another guard walks up.

“Did she do that?” the guard asks. “Is she causing trouble?”

“No,” Peeta says. “It slipped out of my hand.”

The guard looks unconvinced, but Peeta barrels on. “Can you get another tray for her? I’ll clean this up.”

The guard rolls his eyes but heads toward the kitchen. Peeta stands and glares into Katniss’s cell.

“I’m here because of your fucking boyfriend,” Peeta snaps. “Now eat your damn bread.”

*

At first, he doesn’t understand her violent reaction. He puzzles over it as he drifts through the rest of his shift. There’s no way she could know there was a note inside the bread or what it said.

Then, it hits him. He reminded her of the past, before she became an assassin-for-hire and the girlfriend of the most dangerous man in Panem.

He reminded her of how she used to be.

Peeta was nine years old the first time he saw her. Dressed in overalls streaked with dirt, hair carefully twisted into two braids, she walked into his family’s bakery on a Saturday afternoon.

His mother was in the back, swapping freshly baked cookies in the oven with dough. She didn’t reappear at the sound of the bell, so Peeta decided to take care of this customer himself. His father had shown him how to work the register, and Peeta had already memorized all the prices. Besides, this customer was his age!

He knew this would impress his mother. Maybe when she saw how capable he was, she’d stop nitpicking everything he did.

Katniss asked for a loaf of bread without meeting his eyes.

“What kind?” he said.

She bit her lip. “I didn’t know there was more than one kind.”

“Oh yeah! We have sourdough, ciabatta, cinnamon raisin, whole wheat…” He rattled off every type they made. When he finished, she fidgeted but said nothing. She looked overwhelmed.

“I know!” he said. “We just made a few loaves of raisin nut bread. They’re still warm.”

“Okay.”

Peeta smiled, thrilled that he was about to make his first sale. He wrapped a loaf up in a thin paper bag adorned with the Mellark Bakery logo.

“Can I get you anything else?” he asked.

She pointed at the case furthest from the register. “A chocolate cupcake?”

As soon as he bent over to pick one up, the bell rang, signaling another customer. He stood, cupcake in hand, but there was no one new.

And the girl was gone.

Peeta returned to the register, wondering if she had forgotten her money, when he realized the loaf he had carefully wrapped for her was gone too.

His heart sank.

His mother emerged a moment later. The look on his face told her something had happened. She was vigilant about the cash register and inventory anyway. There was no use in lying.

Despite the relatively small loss, she delivered her worst beating yet. He went to bed that night with a black eye and sore ribs, seething over that little girl and her quick fingers.

Why had she stolen a loaf of bread? If he was going to swipe a treat from the bakery without his mother knowing, it would have been a sugar cookie or a red velvet cupcake.

Not bread.

He recalled the overalls that didn’t quite reach the tops of her worn shoes, the thinness of her arms, and the dark circles beneath her eyes.

He may have only been nine, but he wasn’t an idiot. That girl hadn’t stolen the bread on a lark. She was hungry. He spent the rest of the night staring up at the ceiling, unable to sleep, as he wondered if she was okay.

Two days later, his teacher pulled that same girl up to the front of the room to introduce her as their school’s newest student: Katniss Everdeen.

Katniss wore the same overalls. She stared down at her shoes, only glancing up when a chorus of welcomes rang out. Her eyes flitted from face to face, stopping when it landed on Peeta’s. Her shoulders sank, and her gaze returned to the ground.

The following week, after watching Katniss sit by herself at lunch every day without any food, he set down a plastic tray in front of her. It was cafeteria food, and therefore not very good, but her face lit up as if he had laid out a Thanksgiving feast.

On the corner of the tray next to the limp salad, hamburger, and carton of milk was a hunk of raisin nut bread. It was a few days old, and according to his mother unsellable, so she wouldn’t miss it.

Katniss pushed the tray away, her mouth set in a firm line.

“It’s for you,” he said. He lifted up a paper bag that contained the peanut butter sandwich he had made in secret after asking his dad for lunch money. “I brought lunch today.”

“No thank you,” she said quietly.

He sat across from her and pushed the tray back. “I hate hamburgers. I’m a vegetarian,” he lied.

She stared at him for a moment, suspicion written all over her face, before she took a small bite of the burger. She closed her eyes as she swallowed. Then, she was devouring it as if worried he would change his mind and take it back.

By the time he pulled out his sandwich, the burger was gone.

“Do you want the salad?” she asked.

“No, I’m good.”

And then she forked that down too.

She picked up the bread but didn’t bring it to her mouth. “That black eye you had last week…was that because of me?”

Peeta was grateful for his mouthful of peanut butter. It bought him a moment to think. No one - not a student or teacher - had ever mentioned the injuries he periodically showed up with. And even though his brothers sported matching bruises, they never talked about it either.

“No,” Peeta said. He was about to tell her some stupid story about wrestling with Rye, an excuse he had carefully rehearsed time and again even though no one bothered to ask. Then, he changed his mind. He didn’t have to make her feel guilty, but he didn’t have to hide either. “I dropped a tray of cookies.”

“Your father?”

“My mother.”

A couple of days later, Peeta invited Katniss to his house after school. She offered his two brothers small smiles and shook his father’s hand, but she stiffened when Peeta introduced her to his mother.

Katniss soon became a regular at Peeta’s house despite her dislike of Mrs. Mellark. The feeling was mutual. Mrs. Mellark hated her dirty clothes and poor manners and how often she stayed for dinner, but it was more than that. Another three years would pass before Katniss would share her secret with Peeta, but he sensed the power she held, even then. Mrs. Mellark did too, and it unsettled her.

But Peeta wasn’t afraid. Not then, when Katniss watched his mother with clenched fists and narrowed eyes and not later when he understood what she could do. Truthfully, he had always felt better in Katniss’s presence. Safer.

She wouldn’t let anyone touch him.

*

Peeta doesn’t understand how Katniss knows exactly when he’ll show up with her dinner. While he brings it at the same time every evening, there is no clock in her cell. There isn’t anything besides a bed and toilet. There were books at first, but he suspects those were taken away after she attacked Cato.

He wonders what she does all day. The idea of being trapped in such a small space with no distractions from his thoughts unnerves him.

Maybe she stands in front of the door and waits for him to show up.

“How much is he paying you?” she demands the next night.

“Your dinner,” he says, pushing the tray through the slot.

“How much?”

“You really think I’m getting paid to do this?” he snaps.

“Everybody has a price.”

He glares at her, furious that she thinks he would compromise the safety of every person inside the prison for a few bucks. He supposes he’s doing the same thing by keeping her secret, but he won’t give her up. No matter how many dinners she ruins or swears she hurtles his way, he won’t tell a soul.

“You’re right. I am getting something.” He leans closer. “If I do this, he won’t kill my entire family.”

Her eyes don’t widen. Her mouth doesn’t drop open. She has always been an expert on keeping her emotions hidden.

She grabs the tray.

“Enjoy your dinner, Katniss.”

*

A month ago, they grabbed Peeta off the street. It was late, nearly midnight, when two men in tailored suits yanked him into the back of a van. He fought until one of them slammed his head into the side of the door. Dazed, he slumped to the floor and watched the blur of buildings and lights outside the window.

Peeta resisted when they dragged him out of the van and toward the most notorious club in the city. Dozens of people waited in line to get inside. They witnessed Peeta’s struggle, but they did nothing to stop it.

The two men shoved Peeta into a backroom. The lights were bright, but it did little to improve upon the room’s dark interior. All of the furniture was either black or dark brown. Mounted animal heads lined the walls, their frozen snarls directed at Peeta. Weapons covered the furthermost wall: guns and knives of varying sizes.

Peeta stared at the light glinting off the blades to avoid looking at the other person in the room. A tall, dark-haired man with a long scar across his right cheek sat on top of a massive oak desk. As soon as the door shut behind Peeta, the man jumped to his feet, hand outstretched as if to introduce himself.

But Peeta already knew who he was.

Sure enough, he shook Peeta’s hand and clapped him on the back.

“Wow, you are not that impressive,” the man said, taking a step back. He walked around Peeta, studying him.

Peeta remained silent and still. He had seen images of Gale Hawthorne, or Thorne as the majority of the criminal underworld called him, on television and in newspapers. Thorne basically ran the city. He had the drugs, the weapons, the money, the men. He started out as an assassin-for-hire before quickly climbing the ranks of the criminal elite.

“I don’t get it.” Thorne shook his head. “You’re not even that tall.” He stopped in front of Peeta. “Sit down.”

“I don’t--” The two men from earlier appeared at Peeta’s side and shoved him into a surprisingly plush armchair. Thorne dropped into a seat across from him. Dissatisfied, Thorne dragged the chair closer until their knees were practically touching.

“So,” Thorne began, resting his chin in his hand. “You’re Katniss Everdeen’s first love.”

Peeta dug his fingernails into his palms as he tried to keep a pained reaction off his face. According to Thorne’s smile, he had failed to appear nonchalant.

“Look, you can lie if you want, but it’d be much easier if we just skip all that bullshit,” Thorne said.

“She--”

Thorne held up a hand to silence him. “Do you remember Madge Undersee? Lovely girl, bit of a drug problem though.” Thorne tapped his nose and wiggled his eyebrows. “She was all too happy to tell me about your days of puppy love with my Katniss.”

This time, Peeta didn’t bother trying to speak. It was clear Thorne had a script and was sticking to it. While Peeta couldn’t do much to help himself, he worried about Katniss. Everyone knew the stories of Thorne’s violence and mental instability. Would jealousy drive Thorne to hurt her? Fear hit his chest like a bullet, ricocheting through the rest of his body before he remembered that Katniss had been arrested. He’d seen it on the news.

“Now, you know Katniss. Nothing rattles her. I guess after you slaughter a family of four, nothing really gets to you anymore.”

Peeta flinched at the mention of the Crane murders. For years he had clung to the hope that it was a mistake, that the police had blamed the wrong person, but it was the only killing they could officially pin on Katniss. Still though, he couldn’t believe that the woman he had known, that little girl in overalls, could be capable of such a heinous crime.

“Holy shit though, when I mentioned your name, she lost her fucking mind!” Thorne clapped his hands. For whatever reason, this confrontation seemed to bring him a lot of joy.

“She wouldn’t say a word about you. Just warned me to stay the fuck away.” Thorne leaned forward, grabbed Peeta’s knees, and squeezed. “But she’s in jail now. Doesn’t really have a say anymore, does she?”

Peeta forced himself to swallow despite the dryness of his throat. “What do you want?”

“You work at a prison.”

“Not hers.”

“Not yet.” Thorne offered up an ugly smile.

“You want me to help her escape.”

“Yes and no. We both know Katniss doesn’t need any help escaping.”

When Peeta stayed quiet, Thorne rolled his eyes.

“Don’t pretend she didn’t tell you. I know she did. I bet you’re the only person she told. Besides me.”

Peeta stared at the wall of weapons. His silence was answer enough.

“Transfer to her prison. Convince her to start a riot and help as many prisoners as possible escape. Tell me the day, and I’ll be waiting.”

Peeta scoffed. “A riot? No way.” He knew what kind of people were locked up in Panem Penitentiary. They were dangerous, violent, unstable. They felt no remorse. He would never help set those psychos on the loose.

“I pay extremely well.”

Peeta’s eyes slid from the weapons to Thorne’s eyes. With a lot more courage than he felt, he said two words: “I won’t.”

“Okay.” Thorne shrugged and stood. “I mean, I can’t make you, right? It’s a choice. Everyone gets a choice.” He grabbed a manila folder off his desk and turned back to face Peeta. “Hey, do your parents still own that bakery?”

Everything inside Peeta stilled. Even his heart skipped a beat.

“Your brother Tyler, he lives near them and helps out, right?” Thorne dropped the folder in Peeta’s lap. “And Rye...he’s married. Beautiful wife, couple of kids. He lives right outside the city.”

With mounting dread, Peeta opened the folder. Photographs of every member of his family, including his niece and nephew, were inside. Such innocuous looking pictures. They could have been candids taken by a friend.

“Now, Peeta,” Thorne said. “I trust you’ll make the right decision.”


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments and kudos!

Peeta hesitates when he sees an unfamiliar man leaning against the wall beside Katniss’s locked door.

“Finnick Odair,” the man says with an easy smile. “You’re Peeta Mellark?” At Peeta’s nod, he continues. “Wonderful. We’ll be working together a lot, I imagine.”

“Are you new?”

“No. Been here two years now. I just got back from some time off. Let me give you some advice: take those vacation days. Too much time here will make you lose your mind.”

Finnick’s shoulders are too loose, his smile too jovial. Either he’s already lost his mind or the vacation he took worked a miracle.

“Where are we taking Everdeen?” Peeta asks, tilting his head toward her door. “The schedule just said the Visitor Center.”

Finnick pulls a ring of keys out of his pocket and twirls it around his finger. “She’s got her therapy session today.”

Peeta frowns. “Therapy? Since when do the prisoners get therapy?”

“Since Coriolanus Snow demanded it and said he’d foot the bill.”

“Snow?” Peeta echoed. “Isn’t that--”

“Seneca Crane’s father? Yeah, puzzle that one out.” Finnick shrugs. “Most of us figure he ordered the therapy to find out who placed the hit on the Cranes. Or maybe he just wants to know where his grandkids are buried.”

Peeta shudders as the image of the smoking mansion flashes inside his head. Finnick slides open the top slot and yells, “Up against the wall, Everdeen!”

His voice, while loud, carries no heat. He opens the door, throws up his arms, and announces, “I’m back!” He’s surprisingly bright considering he just referenced Katniss’s gruesome past, but it relieves Peeta that not every guard in this place is a violent psychopath.

Katniss, of course, says nothing. She just continues to lean against the furthermost wall, arms held in the air.

“Calm down, Everdeen, your excitement is embarrassing me.” Finnick snaps cuffs around her wrists and ankles before nudging her forward. “I heard you’re stuck in solitary. I guess you’ve been lashing out in my absence.”

Peeta holds onto Katniss’s arm as Finnick relocks her cell. He finds himself unconsciously leaning into her, his shoulder brushing against hers. He distances himself as Finnick appears on her other side.

“I hope you kicked Cato’s ass,” Finnick mumbles.

They head toward the Visitor Center, Finnick keeping up a stream of one-sided conversation as they walk.

“Don’t know why everyone’s so scared of you,” Finnick says. “We’ve always gotten along, right? You been treating Mellark well?”

Katniss rolls her eyes, and Finnick laughs. “Good. He seems much saner than Cato.”

Finnick leads them into a small, nearly empty room. An older woman with steel gray hair sits behind a metal table in the center. The badge clipped to her blazer reads “Dr. Coin.” She doesn’t rise or offer a greeting. Katniss drops into the empty chair, and Finnick attaches the chain hanging from her wrists to a metal loop embedded in the table. He gestures toward the wall and Peeta follows. They take their positions on either side of the room as the doctor finally speaks.

“I understand you’ve been violent since our last session.”

She asks Katniss question after question: Why did she attack Cato? Did hurting him make her feel good? Did she regret lashing out?

A prolonged silence follows every question as the doctor gives Katniss a chance to respond. She never does. She doesn’t look up from her hands.

“Maybe we can talk about something new today,” Dr. Coin says, pulling a thick file out of her leather briefcase. “Maybe we can discuss your career over the last few years.”

The doctor drops a pile of photographs onto the table. Peeta is too far away to make them out, but he doesn’t remain in the dark for long.

“Charles Kovakoff, Gregory Townwell, Sebastian Miller…” The doctor keeps rattling off names, but Peeta’s mind drifts away, trying to block her voice out.

She’s naming Katniss’s alleged victims. All men, all shot through the eye with an arrow. The law can’t prove it, but it’s possible Katniss killed them all. It’s also possible she killed none of them.

Peeta doesn’t know what he believes anymore.

When Katniss barely glances at the photos, Dr. Coin pulls another one out. She reaches across the table and slaps it down in front of Katniss.

“Recognize them?” the doctor asks. “Seneca Crane, age 44. Delia Crane, age 34. Joshua Crane, age 10. Mia Crane, age 6.” She points to each figure in the picture. Peeta tastes bile in the back of his throat.

Katniss was only nineteen when she set that mansion on fire.

“They’re willing to make a deal with you, Katniss. Tell us who hired you, and you won’t get the death penalty. Tell us where you buried Delia and her children, and maybe you won’t be in here for the rest of your miserable life.”

Katniss finally lifts her head and makes eye contact with the doctor. No tears. No guilt. No remorse.

“Many murderers exhibit violent tendencies when they’re younger,” Dr. Coin says. “Tell me, Katniss, did you ever hurt any animals growing up? Any people?” She steeples her fingers and presses them against her lips. “Did you ever hurt Primrose?”

Katniss’s expression doesn’t change, but her fingers twitch.

“Did you play games with her, Katniss? Did you warn her not to tell?”

Sweat coats Peeta’s palms as he squeezes them into fists. Anger shudders through him, and he has to bite his tongue to keep from yelling at the doctor.

Peeta remembers the look on Katniss’s face when she first saw her sister. There was so much awe, so much wonder, as her mother set Prim into Katniss’s arms.

It was one of the few times Peeta ever saw Katniss cry.

Katniss was only three when her father died. Four when her mother nearly overdosed, and she was thrown into foster care. The system bounced her around different families, some uncaring, some dangerous, some horrifying. She was nine when her mother showed up at Katniss’s latest house and stole her away. The police never came after them. Peeta wondered if Katniss’s foster family even reported it.

Katniss and her mother settled down outside the city of Panem, right in Peeta’s suburb. A couple of months passed before Katniss realized her mother was pregnant. Two years passed before her mother fell off the wagon, back into the world of drug use.

Katniss did everything for Prim. Fed her, bathed her, read to her. She dropped her off at daycare in the morning and picked her up after school. She played with her in the evening. Peeta joined Katniss often, doing his homework while she cooked them dinner.

Katniss was an angry child. She held grudges. She didn’t believe in forgive and forget. Peeta feared that she might grow resentful of Prim as they grew older. She certainly hated their mother. But it never happened. Katniss cared for Prim as if Prim were her own daughter up until the day she left.

And Prim loved her right back.

Katniss says nothing as the doctor continues her verbal assault. Dr. Coin might not notice the changes in Katniss, but Peeta does. It’s all in her hands, the way her fingers flex. The way they begin to shake.

He watches her control slowly fall apart.

He rips his flashlight out of his pocket and drops it onto the ground. The sound of metal against cement startles the doctor. She twists around in her chair to glare at Peeta. Katniss, meanwhile, presses her forehead against the table and takes a deep breath.

“Sorry,” Peeta mutters as he returns his flashlight to his pocket. “It slipped.”

The doctor stands. “This is getting us nowhere. You can take her back to her cell.”

Finnick detaches the chain from the table and clips it back to the chains around Katniss’s ankles. If he notices the tremor in her hands, he doesn’t say.

“I’ll see you in two weeks,” Dr. Coin says, her voice sharp.

As soon as the door shuts behind them, Peeta moves in front of Katniss, preventing her from going any further.

“Katniss?”

His heart breaks when he sees the tears in her eyes. While he’s never had a chance to talk to her about Prim’s death, he knows she’s cycling through thoughts of guilt. Her mother and Prim died in a car accident a year after Katniss left town. Drugs were found in Mrs. Everdeen’s system. He knows Katniss blames herself for not being there to stop it.

For abandoning her sister out of fear that she’d hurt her only to have her die anyway.

Katniss squeezes her eyes shut, and the tears finally fall. She lifts her arms, but the chain keeps her hands at chest level. Peeta tugs his sleeve over his palm and wipes her cheeks. His sleeve slips down his wrist, and then it’s his thumb against her skin. She leans into him.

“Are you okay?” he asks quietly.

Her eyes lock onto his, and he sees that nine-year-old girl, sad and hungry and so utterly alone. If he believed he’d succeed, he’d help her escape right this second. He’d remove the chains, pull her out those huge steel doors, let her feel the sun on her face.

And then they’d run. Leave this hell of an existence behind.

This time, when she disappeared, he’d be at her side.

Finnick clears his throat. “Time to get back.”

Peeta rips his hand away. He can’t read the expression on Finnick’s face.

*

After they return Katniss to her cell, Finnick suggests they eat an early dinner together. When Peeta resists, Finnick’s voice grows hard.

“We should get to know each other,” Finnick says. “I insist.”

There’s no one else in the room when Peeta and Finnick settle at a table. Before Peeta can pull out his sandwich, Finnick asks, “Do you know how Seneca Crane died?”

Peeta stares at him, wondering if this is a trick question. “A fire.”

“Yeah, but do you know how he actually died?”

Peeta shakes his head.

“Most people caught in a fire die from smoke inhalation, but Crane burned.” He pauses as if to let the news sink in. “She burned him alive.”

There is fire in Peeta’s chest. It’s burning through his ribs, scorching his skin. He can’t speak.

“That’s anger. Cruelty. But it’s pleasure too,” Finnick says. “She wanted him to suffer.”

“You don’t know why--”

“It doesn’t matter why,” Finnick said. “Do you understand what kind of person is capable of that?”

“You were joking around with her,” Peeta forces out. “You--”

“I do what I need to do to survive working around these people,” Finnick says. “But I never forget what they’re capable of.”

Peeta stares at his hands and reminds himself to breathe. He hasn’t forgotten what Katniss is capable of. He never will.

“Boggs told me what happened with Cato and Marvel, how you talked her down.”

“So this has been a test,” Peeta says. “And you’re going to report me.”

“Not necessarily.”

Peeta finally looks up, and they lock eyes.

“How long have you known Everdeen?” Finnick asks.

Peeta considers lying, but all it would take is a little research to place him in the same school system as Katniss. Besides, the way he touched her-- 

“I met her when I was nine.”

Finnick sits back in his chair and scrubs a hand over his face. “So. A first love.”

“No, I--” Peeta shakes his head and looks down at the brown paper bag sitting in front of him. He used to sit in Katniss’s kitchen and watch her pack lunch for Prim. If she was lucky, there’d be enough food to pack for herself.

It didn’t matter. Peeta made sure she never went without.

Peeta sighs. “Only,” he says. “Only love.”

“You here to help her escape?”

Peeta laughs at the question, at Finnick’s careful scrutiny. With careful control he learned from Katniss over the years, he simply and clearly says, “No.”

Finnick studies him for a moment, considering. Finally, he asks, “Why are you here?”

“I haven’t seen her in seven years, not since…” He trails off. It’s none of Finnick’s business what sent Katniss running from him. “I just wanted to see her again. Make sure she’s okay.”

“You worked at a prison before this, right?” Finnick asks. 

“For two years.”

Peeta can tell Finnick is weighing his words, comparing the two years Peeta’s been employed by a prison to Katniss’s two month internment. If Peeta was planning something, it had been in the making for quite some time.

“You know you’re just torturing yourself, right?” Finnick asks. “Everdeen isn’t that girl you used to know. That girl is long gone.”

Peeta squeezes his hand into a fist under the table and bites back a response. Part of him suspects Finnick is right. A smaller, much more foolish part refuses to believe it.

“I won’t tell Boggs,” Finnick says. “You can keep seeing her, but if I start to suspect something is going on--”

“I understand,” Peeta says. 

“They’re going to execute her,” Finnick says. “It’s only a matter of time. This won’t end well. For either of you.”

“I know,” Peeta says. Of course he knows. He’s in love with a dead girl.

*

Finnick is true to his word. The day after Katniss’s therapy appointment is like any other day. Boggs doesn’t call Peeta into his office or adjust his schedule. When six PM rolls around, Peeta picks up a dinner tray and delivers it to Katniss’s door.

He slides open the top slot, surprised to find her laying on her bed instead of waiting for him. Her gaze is fixed on the ceiling.

“Everdeen.”

She sits up at his voice. Eyes wide, she rushes to the door, not bothering to hide the relief written across her face.

“You’re still here.”

“You thought I’d leave?”

She shakes her head. “I saw the look on Finnick’s face. I thought...”

There is no one behind Peeta. Most of the guards are in the cafeteria, supervising dinner. Boggs has already left for the day. Peeta decides to risk the conversation.

“He knows about us. I had to tell him.”

“What does he know exactly?” she asks.

“That we were friends when we were kids. That I was in love with you.”

She moves closer to the door, curls her fingers over the edge of the bottom slot. The urge to touch her is overwhelming. Just a light brush of his skin against hers. It’s all he needs.

“He didn’t report you,” she says.

“He’s keeping an eye on me, but no, he doesn’t plan on reporting me. He thinks I transferred here to see you.”

“Is he right?” she asks. “Is that why you transferred?”

He lowers his voice. “You know why I’m here.”

She pulls her hands away, and the blank face she usually wears slips back into place.

“I can’t help these people escape,” she says. “I won’t.”

“Then why are you here?”

“What do you mean? I was arrested.”

“No, you let yourself get arrested. You could have gotten away if you wanted to.”

“You weren’t there,” she says.

“I didn’t have to be. I know you.” 

He’s seen her in action before, and he read the police report. She was armed when the police found her. Even if she was determined to hide her ability, with the right cover and a few arrows, she could have killed her way out of there. There’s no way the police captured her without any bloodshed on either side. She spent years evading arrest, and then one night, she botches a job and doesn’t get away in time?

Not likely.

Footsteps sound behind him. Peeta pushes the tray through the slot, and Katniss grabs it, setting it on her bed. When he turns, he finds Finnick standing a couple of feet away.

“Five minutes left in dinner,” Finnick says. “Then, you and I make our rounds.” He walks away without waiting for an answer.

Peeta looks back at the cell door. Katniss is directly in front of him, peering outside of the top slot.

“He’s a good guy,” she says. “He shouldn’t be working in a place like this. Neither should you.”

“I did want to see you,” Peeta whispers. “I’ve missed you. I was so worried when you left.”

She backs away, unable to meet his eyes. “I should eat dinner before it gets cold.”

“Right.” He’s about to close the slots when a thought occurs to him, a long-buried memory he used to worry over constantly. “Are you eating enough?”

She looks up from the tray balanced on her lap. Her skin is paler than he remembers it as a teengaer. Her cheeks are hollow, her collarbone sharp. He can only imagine the prominency of her rib cage beneath her shirt.

While he made sure she was well-fed growing up, she always remained on the skinnier side. He assumed too much malnutrition in her early years had stunted her growth. But it was more than that.

“You only get two meals. I don’t know how many calories,” he says. “It can’t be enough. Your metabolism…”

It’s her ability’s fault. It requires too much energy. Her metabolism is lightning fast, burning through calories as quickly as she consumes them. She must be starving.

“It’s not so bad when I’m not practicing. I haven’t done it in months.” When his expression doesn’t change, she forces a smile. “I’m fine.” Her voice is stubborn, insistent.

But she doesn’t resist the extra bread he sneaks in the next day.

*

A week later, Boggs lifts Katniss’s ban on the outdoors. She’s still not allowed to eat or socialize with any of the other prisoners, so Finnick and Peeta have to take her out themselves. They leave off her ankle chains, although her hands are still cuffed. They walk the perimeter of the yard, Peeta and Finnick on either side of her. A small group of prisoners enjoy their rec time further away. A handful of guards stand around, supervising. In the tower, two armed guards watch everything.

Finnick lags behind on their second lap until Peeta and Katniss are several feet ahead of him. None of the guards seem to notice or care. Peeta has no idea if there are others watching him around Katniss, if Boggs still worries about his behavior. Nonetheless, he takes advantage of the modicum of privacy Finnick has given them. 

“Why does Thorne want to help these people escape? Aren’t they competition?” Peeta asks.

“He wants an army,” Katniss says.

A chill passes through him. “To do what?”

“I don’t think he has any one goal in mind other than to gain as much power as possible. And what better way than to help a bunch of psychotic criminals escape? They’ll owe Gale their freedom. They’ll do whatever he wants.”

“Is gratitude really that big of a motivator for these people?”

“No, but fear is. When they learn Gale is the one that orchestrated the escape, they’ll either skip town or fall in line. Most of them won’t resist. The ones who do will end up dead.”

There is no doubt in her voice. Thorne may be unstable, but he is also intelligent and calculating. Everyone knows he runs the city. Few would be stupid enough to cross him.

“Has he contacted you?” she asks.

“No.” It’s been almost two weeks since Peeta found the picture of his brother on his kitchen table. His shoulders tense every time he walks into his apartment, certain this will be the time he finds something else. Someone else.

Thorne must be growing impatient.

“When he does, tell him I said no. I’m done with all that.”

“You think he’ll accept that?”

She stares straight ahead. “He doesn’t have a choice.”

“What about you?” Peeta asks. “What’s our plan?”

“What do you mean?”

“To escape,” he says.

“There is no plan. I’m not leaving.”

He grabs her arm. While there is no one in front of them, there are plenty of people behind that could see. Reluctantly, he pulls away.

“They’re going to execute you,” he says.

“That’s the rumor.”

He wants to grab her again, shake her, demand that she see reason. He takes a deep breath and forces himself to remain calm.

“There will be a trial,” she continues. “There isn’t much evidence for anyone except Crane.”

Right. No bodies, no case. But Seneca was found. In addition to an eyewitness placing Katniss at the mansion, there’s footage from the twenty-four-hour drugstore Katniss stopped by shortly after the mansion was set on fire. Not only did the salesclerk remember Katniss’s soot-smudged cheeks and the heavy scent of smoke, but the camera caught her buying iodine and bandages. 

Peeta never understood the stop or why she would be so careless. He opens his mouth to ask her, but she keeps speaking.

“Maybe I’ll just confess. No need to drag it out.”

“Don’t confess,” he advises. “Don’t say anything.”

“Got that covered.”

Peeta studies her out of the corner of his eye. Her face is back to its emotionless mask, but he knows how happy she is to finally be outside. When they first stepped into the yard, she closed her eyes, face tilted up toward the sun.

“Why don’t you speak?” he asks.

“It’s easier. At first, I just didn’t want to talk to the police,” she says. “And then I didn’t want to talk to anyone at all. It’s easier when people don’t expect you to speak. No one bothers you.”

Katniss has had a wall up between her and other people for as long as he’s known her, but this is something else entirely. Her protective instinct for those weaker than her is still strong. After all, she held a gun to Cato’s head after he and his friend harassed some inmate named Annie. But she doesn’t want to be close to anyone. She doesn’t even want a casual friendship, someone to complain with about the crappy food or the scratchy sheets or the violent guards on a rampage. 

Boggs put Katniss in solitary as a punishment, but she doesn’t seem to mind it at all. Something sharp and cold lodges in Peeta’s chest as the pieces click into place.

“I think you got arrested on purpose,” he says. 

Finnick lags further behind as Katniss and Peeta round the corner of the yard. They now face everyone outside, both prisoners and guards. Katniss will stop talking, but he doesn’t have to. They can’t hear him.

“You want to die in prison. I don’t understand why you’re doing this, but I’m not going to let you.”

She stops suddenly, feet rooted to the ground. There’s sadness in her gray eyes, maybe even a little regret. He imagines touching her cheek again, curling his fingers into her hair, pressing his lips against hers. 

He can’t fathom a world without her in it. During their seven years apart, he kept tabs on her when she popped up in the news. It was almost enough knowing she was out there, even if he couldn’t see her.

But for her to be gone, for there to be no hope at seeing her again, he can’t stand it, can’t bear it--

“Let me go,” she whispers.

Then, Finnick is beside them, and she’s moving again, away from Peeta, away from their past, away from any hope for a future.

It rips him open. “I can’t.”

*

Peeta isn’t surprised when he arrives home one morning after a double shift to find Thorne and two nameless men standing in his kitchen. He actually relaxes. No longer does he have to worry about when.

It’s now.

“You’re dragging this out,” Thorne says as Peeta drops his keys on the table. “I get it. You haven’t seen her since high school, and you’re enjoying this happy little reunion.”

“She doesn’t--” Peeta is on his hands and knees before he can finish his sentence. One of Thorne’s men walks into his line of vision, the man’s hand clenched into a fist. Peeta rubs the back of his head and swallows the nausea that threatens.

Thorne crouches down in front of him and grabs a fistful of hair. “I thought I made this clear,” he says. “You had your chance. Katniss belongs to me now.”

“She said no,” Peeta spits out. 

“What?”

“She said she won’t help anyone escape. She said she’s done.”

Thorne laughs and throws Peeta back down. He catches himself just before his face smashes into the floor.

“You’re full of shit. If she stays there, she’s dead.”

“Did you ever think that that’s what she wants?” Peeta asks.

“To die in prison surrounded by enemies?” Thorne is back on his feet. He towers over Peeta. When Peeta tries to stand, Thorne kicks him in the stomach, and he’s back on his knees.

“Interesting theory,” Thorne continues. “It’s like you don’t have a fucking clue. I thought you two used to be close?”

Peeta wants to laugh in his face. If Thorne truly knew Katniss at all, he’d suspect the same thing.

“You really think Katniss got arrested because she messed up? You really think she couldn’t have gotten away if she wanted to?”

“It all catches up with us eventually,” Thorne says.

“Even you?”

Dots burst in front of Peeta’s eyes when the back of his head smacks into the floor. He tries to speak, but his oxygen is cut off by Thorne’s hand wrapped around his throat.

“Everything was fine between us.” Thorne yells. “You fucking ruined it! This is your fault!”

Just as Peeta’s vision disappears, Thorne lets go. Peeta gasps for breath turn into a coughing fit as he rolls onto his side. When he finally looks back up, Thorne’s men are on either side of him.

“Stand him up,” Thorne snaps. 

They grab Peeta’s arms and yank. He sways, unsteady, but the men keep him in place. 

“You have one week to convince Katniss. One week to give me a date. Do you understand?”

Peeta shakes his head. “She won’t do it.”

Thorne flexes his right hand. “I guess we’ll just have to convince her.”

*

Peeta loses time. Minutes, hours. He doesn’t remember slipping to the floor when the beating stopped or the sound of the door when Thorne and his men left.

Time is fuzzy, fluid. It spills around him without care, passes without any weight. He hurts in a way he has never hurt before. It’s turned the world imaginary. The only real thing is the pain. He can’t see. One eye is swollen shut. He’s not sure about the other. It may just be sealed shut with blood.

Eventually, he wobbles into a standing position, nearly slipping in the process. He inches in the direction of the kitchen sink. When he finally reaches it, he splashes water on his face, and the pain is fresh and new.

At least he can see out of one eye now. Enough to recognize that he slipped in his own blood on the floor.

He collapses into bed. It’s dark when he wakes up. 

Thankfully, he has the next two days off. The third day, he calls out sick. He can’t let Katniss see him like this, but he doesn’t have much of a choice. It’ll take weeks for the bruises to fade.

When he returns to work on the fourth day, he tells everyone he was mugged. 

Peeta hoped to avoid Katniss’s gaze by keeping the top slot of the door closed when he delivered her dinner, but the odds are not in his favor. She has a therapy appointment. If he gets another guard to take his place, not only will Katniss suspect something is wrong, but Finnick will too. Finnick already doubts his mugging story.

Peeta follows Finnick into Katniss’s cell, his head down. She’s against the far wall, hands up, when Finnick reaches out to cuff her wrists. She rips her hands away and darts forward as soon as she notices Peeta’s face.

“What happened?” she demands.

Finnick grabs her upper arm, his hand hovering over the taser in his belt. She stops but doesn’t look away from Peeta.

“What happened?” she repeats.

Finnick looks back and forth between the two of them. “Can’t say I’m surprised you can actually talk,” he mumbles.

“I was mugged,” Peeta says.

She grasps his chin, gently pushing it to the right so she can study his bruises. Her lips are pressed together in a tight, thin line.

“Everdeen, the door is open,” Finnick says, a warning in his tone. “I need your wrists.”

Peeta tenses, worried she’ll mouth off or worse, but she holds her hands out in front of her and allows the cuffs to be locked in place.

Finnick tugs her out of the cell. Peeta lags behind, just out of sight, but she doesn’t try to look at him. She doesn’t say another word.

Finnick leads her into the Visitor Center and hooks her to the table. She sits and stares straight ahead, her eyes the color of a storm cloud. She grabs the chain hanging from her wrists and squeezes until her knuckles turn white.

While Katniss’s face is blank, the doctor reads the tension in her stiff shoulders and clenched fists. A smile slowly forms on Dr. Coin’s face.

“How are you today, Katniss?” she asks. “You seem upset.” She pauses. “Do these appointments bother you?”

Katniss’s stillness is unnerving, but for once, the doctor doesn’t seem frustrated. 

“Should we talk more about Primrose this week?” she asks.

Peeta tenses, certain this will set Katniss off, but she doesn’t move.

“There’s no record of violence in your youth,” Dr. Coin continues. “But that doesn’t mean nothing happened.”

When this fails, she asks, “What about your mother? She chose drugs over you when you were just a little girl. She lost custody and didn’t bother taking you back until she needed someone to raise Prim. I imagine there was a lot of anger there. With her drug use, she probably wouldn’t remember anything you did.”

Katniss never hurt Mrs. Everdeen no matter how angry and resentful she grew. There were a handful of incidents in middle school, boys bullying Peeta who later received black eyes or a kick to a groin. They were all too embarassed that a girl had hurt them to report it. By high school, they had learned to leave both Katniss and Peeta alone.

There were plenty of girls who teased Katniss, made fun of her clothes or hair, but she only ever scowled at them. Katniss had never been in the habit of hurting someone weaker than her.

“You must be furious with your mother now,” Dr. Coin says. “She smokes some meth, takes your sister for a car ride, drives them off a bridge… Perhaps if you’d been there, you could have stopped it.”

“If only,” Katniss says.

Silence descends upon the room. Even Finnick, who heard her speak only moments ago, freezes in place.

“Excuse me?” Dr. Coin asks, surprise evident in her voice.

“I hate thinking like that. If only I had stayed. If only my mother had gotten her shit together. It’s a waste of time.”

“Is it? It’s something to think about. If only you had made better choices. If only you hadn’t taken out your unresolved anger on the Crane Family.”

“Oh yes, poor Seneca,” Katniss says. “He was such a fucking saint. A man of the people. Up for reelection when he was brutally murdered.”

“Katniss--”

“He would have won too,” Katniss continues. “Another term as senator and then, who knows? He could have been our next president.”

“Was it a political enemy that hired you?” Dr. Coin presses. “Someone who didn’t want to see him remain in office?”

Katniss drops the chain from her hand and it clanks against the metal table. She picks it up and drops it a second time. A third.

“He had so many enemies,” Katniss says. “He wasn’t as nice as everyone thought. Not nearly as bright either.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Dr. Coin asks. “This little game you’re playing. Weeks of silence and now this… enjoy this bit of power while you can. It’s all you have.”

“Sure. I’m weak and helpless. I’m terrified of this place. All the mean old guards and prisoners.” She rests her chin in her hands and bats her eyelashes. “Please let me make a plea deal.”

“Mouth off all you want,” Dr. Coin says. “But these sessions will continue. Through the trial, through your wait on death row. I’ll see you off the day they execute you.”

“It’s a date.”

Dr. Coin sets her leather briefcase on the table. This time, she removes several candid photos of the Crane family. The children opening presents on Christmas; an exhausted, sweaty Mrs. Crane posing with her newborn daughter; Seneca standing beside his family on the steps of the Capitol. 

“More pictures,” Katniss says. “You shouldn’t have.”

“A complete lack of remorse won’t make the jury sympathize with you.”

“I regret plenty,” Katniss says. “I regret that Seneca died so quickly. I had hoped he’d take longer to burn.”

Peeta mentally pleads with her to stop. Anything she says will be thrown back in her face when this goes to trial. Of course, that’s what she wants, isn’t it? Didn’t she say she’d confess?

“I regret that I didn’t do worse to him,” Katniss continues. “He cried and he begged, but it wasn’t enough. It never is, I guess.”

“Seneca Crane was a human being,” Dr. Coin says, all remnants of calm gone. “Do you understand? You tortured and murdered a living, breathing person.”

Katniss slams her palms on the table. The doctor jumps back, her chair screeching against the floor.

“I know exactly what I did,” Katniss snaps. “He got what was coming to him.”

“What about his children? His wife? What did they deserve?”

“Better than what they got.”

Silence hangs in the air as everyone absorbs Katniss’s words.

“Just tell me where their bodies are,” Dr. Coin says. “Put an old man’s mind to rest. Let him bury his grandchildren.”

“Of course. That’s why you’re here, right? That’s why Snow signs your checks?” Katniss jumps to her feet, sending her chair to the ground. “Tell Snow if he wants to know what really happened, he can come here and ask me himself. I’m done talking to you.”

“That’s not your choice,” Dr. Coin says.

Katniss rattles the chains around her wrists. “I’d like to go back to my cell now.”

“You’re not in charge anymore, Katniss. Not here.”

“Oh, doctor,” Katniss says. “If only that were true.”

*

As soon as the cell door is locked behind Katniss, Finnick grabs Peeta’s arm and drags him outside to where the smokers take their breaks. The scent of smoke lingers despite the deserted area.

“You have forty-eight hours to request a transfer,” Finnick says.

A knot of dread forms in Peeta’s stomach. “But I thought--”

“How’d you get those bruises?”

“I was mugged.”

Finnick shakes his head. “You’re full of shit. I don’t trust either one of you.”

“Don’t do this.”

“Something is going on. This isn’t about you missing your psycho ex-girlfriend anymore. This is about protecting the people in this prison and in this city.”

“She’s not psychotic.”

“Really? Tell that to the Cranes!”

“She didn’t kill Crane’s wife or kids,” Peeta says.

“Oh yeah? Did she tell you that?”

“She didn’t have to. I know her. I know she wouldn’t hurt them.”

The police didn’t find their bodies because there were no bodies. He knows she killed Seneca and the rest of the men in Dr. Coin’s photographs, but he would never believe she hurt those kids. It wasn’t in her to do it.

“Look, Peeta…” Finnick places a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll look out for her. I promise.”

“Please let me stay.”

Finnick’s gaze hardens. He retracts his hand. ”Say your goodbyes and leave, or I’ll report you myself.”

When Peeta goes back inside, he finds another guard to take Katniss her dinner. He can’t see her right now. He doesn’t know what to say.

He doesn’t understand how he got here. All he wanted growing up was to make his mother proud, make her love him. It took way too many years for him to realize it was never going to happen.

After he met Katniss, the only thing he wanted was to protect her like she protected him. He thought it would always be the two of them, taking care of each other. She was his family.

But unless he thinks of something quickly, he’ll have to leave her behind.


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to only be three chapters, but I always underestimate how long scenes will end up. There’s one more chapter after this one. Thanks for reading, leaving kudos, and commenting! I really appreciate the feedback and encouragement.

Peeta doesn’t sleep that night. It’s nearly four in the morning when he decides there’s only one option. He has to help Katniss escape. While it’s not the riot or army that Thorne wants, it might be enough to appease him and keep him from hurting Peeta’s family.

And Katniss would be free.

Peeta knows that Katniss doesn’t want to escape, and if he gives her any advance warning, she’ll resist. His best option is to spring it on her when he takes her dinner, just unlock the door, grab her hand, and go.

Could he make it look like a prisoner transfer? Pretend he’s taking her to the Visitor Center or to exercise in the yard? It’d be easier if Finnick would help, but that’s out of the question. Peeta will have to figure it out himself.

That evening, exhausted and unsteady on his feet, Peeta brings Katniss her dinner tray. When he slides open the top slot, she’s sitting on her bed, back against the wall, staring straight ahead.

“Everdeen,” he calls.

She doesn’t move.

“Time for dinner.” 

When she still shows no sign of having heard him, he sighs. “Come on, Katniss. Take your tray.”

“You didn’t come last night,” she says. “That dickhead Gloss delivered it.”

“I’m sorry. It was a rough night.”

She stares at him from the bed, her mouth twisted into a scowl. Maybe if he tells her what happened with Finnick, she’ll suggest the escape herself. She might even have an idea.

But something else comes out instead. “I used to think about what would have happened if you hadn’t left too.”

She shakes her head, but he continues. “An apartment in Twelve Oakes. Movie nights on the couch. Hikes on the weekends.”

She stands and pulls her tray through the bottom slot. “You’d probably be dead too,” she says. “That’s what I think would have happened.”

“You really think you’d hurt me?” 

She left town, left him and Prim, the only two people in the world she loved, because she was afraid of what she was capable of. But he never believed that she’d hurt either of them.

She eyes the piece of freshly baked bread on her tray before setting it down.

“No,” she says. “But this all feels inevitable, doesn’t it? Prim, Seneca, Gale. I can’t let you die because of me.”

“That’s bullshit,” he says. “I know what kind of person you are. You would be living a completely different life if you had stayed.”

“You can’t rewrite history. You know what kind of person I am because you saw it yourself.”

He knows she’s thinking of that night seven years ago, the last time he saw her before she left town. He tried to calm her down, reassure her, but she wouldn’t listen.

“You know why I pulled you off my mother, don’t you?” he asks.

“I was going to kill her,” Katniss says flatly.

“Yes,” he says. “Then you’d be arrested. They’d take you away from me. In that moment, the only person I was afraid for was you. I only stopped you because I didn’t want you to end up here.”

“Well,” she says, waving an arm around her cell. “Sorry to disappoint.”

*

Peeta had a plan. He had kept it to himself for almost a year, but on the Saturday before Thanksgiving during their senior year of high school, he couldn’t stay quiet any longer. After he finished closing up the bakery, Katniss at his side, he suggested they hang out in the apartment upstairs. Occasionally someone rented it, but when it was unoccupied like it was now, his older brothers often snuck their girlfriends up there.

Tonight though, the apartment was theirs. He texted his father that he would be hanging out at Katniss’s. His mother was out of town for the night, celebrating a friend’s birthday at a spa, probably complaining about prices and driving everyone crazy. Katniss’s mother was at work. Or she wasn’t. It didn’t matter. Prim was safe, sleeping over a friend’s. Tonight was the rare night where Katniss was free to do as she pleased.

It was freezing upstairs. Mrs. Mellark kept the heat turned as low as possible when there were no tenants. There was no cable, but electricity meant access to Netflix. 

Despite his sweater, a chill crept over Peeta. He wrapped himself in a throw blanket before sitting on the couch. He clicked through the Romantic Comedy category, and Katniss groaned.

“Why do you subject me to these movies?”

Despite her protests, he knew she actually loved them. For a little while, she could pretend the world was pretty and predictable and full of happy endings. He selected a new release, then handed the remote to Katniss. He buried his hands beneath the blanket and wedged them between his thighs.

“Cold?” she asked with a smug smile.

He eyed her bare arms, empty of goosebumps. He narrowed his eyes. “A bit.”

She inched closer and nudged him. When he lifted the blanket, she burrowed into his side, wrapping an arm around his stomach. The heat of her hand seeped through the fabric of his sweater. Desire stirred within him, and he shifted in his seat.

This was all he wanted. The two of them, entwined on a couch, watching a movie she wouldn’t admit to enjoying, for the rest of his life. His mother would call him foolish, remind him that he was seventeen and didn’t know a thing about the real world. But he knew enough. He knew he was in love with Katniss, and even if she never loved him in the same way, he wanted her by his side. Always.

“What are you going to do after graduation?” he asked.

She stiffened in his arms, but didn’t pull away. She didn’t want to have this conversation. While they never discussed Peeta’s college plans, she knew he had applied to Panem State. His mother brought it up at every opportunity, eager to see him gone.

“I don’t know. Find a job that pays more than minimum wage. Work while Prim is in school,” she said.

Katniss hated that she couldn’t work. She knew it would be foolish to drop out of school, and working evenings and weekends was impossible. At eight, Prim was too young to be home alone. Putting her in an afterschool program or hiring a sitter would cost whatever Katniss made at work. It wasn’t logical. Mrs. Everdeen was employed sporadically, working a few months before getting fired for some drug- or behavior-related problem. There was always just enough money in the bank account though. Enough for rent and utilities at least. Some months, Katniss couldn’t make it stretch, and their water would be shut off, or she wouldn’t have lunch for a couple of weeks. But it could have been worse.

“Aren’t you going to ask me my plan?” Peeta said.

She lifted up her head, but continued to stare straight ahead at the television. A pretty blue-eyed blonde tripped on screen, spilling coffee all over a handsome, bearded stranger. They would obviously be in love by the end of the movie.

“I know your plan,” Katniss said.

“I want to leave town with you. Right after graduation.”

She whipped her head around, but he continued before she could speak. “We’ll both be eighteen. They can’t stop us. We’ll find jobs, something to support ourselves. We’ll go to school part-time. We’ll take turns if we have to.”

“Peeta…”

“Prim will come too, of course. I doubt your mom will fight you on that.”

He placed a hand over hers and squeezed.

“I don’t have any money,” Katniss said. “How could we--”

“I do,” he interrupted, excited that she had not immediately dismissed the idea. He had been saving his money for years, but it wasn’t until last year that he realized what he wanted to use it for. Already he had looked up apartments several towns away and calculated the cost of rent, utilities, and food. “I’ve been saving. I’ve got enough for a security deposit and a couple of months rent. If we find jobs right away, if we live carefully, we’ll be fine.”

She bit her lip. “I thought you wanted to go to Panem State.”

“I want to go where you’re going,” he said. “Wherever that is.”

“But Peeta… it could take years for you to get your degree if we don’t have any money. And we’ll have Prim. We’ll be raising her together. Are you really ready to give up your whole life for us?”

His heart hammered in his chest, but he had to say it. He had to make her understand. “You are my whole life. I thought you knew that.”

She kissed him, her mouth a delicious heat that melted the last of his fears. She pulled him closer until she was horizontal on the couch, and he hovered over her.

“Is this okay?” he asked, even though she had moved first. They had never kissed before, and he worried he’d do something wrong and break the spell.

“I want us to leave together. You, me, and Prim. I want to be happy,” she said.

He kissed her, his fingers curling into her hair, and the moment was so achingly perfect, he wanted to freeze it and live inside it. If only life could feel like this all the time.

“You make me happy, Peeta,” she whispered.

The rest of the world disappeared as they kissed. Katniss pulled off her t-shirt and Peeta stared until she finally covered herself with her arms. He had seen her in her one piece bathing suit plenty of times, but this was different. There was so much more to see, to touch. He wanted to trace every new inch of her.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, amazed that this was finally happening. He pushed her bra strap down her shoulder and kissed the skin he found beneath.

“Don’t do that,” she whispered. “Don’t lie.”

“You have no idea how gorgeous you are.”

“Just kiss me,” she said.

Soon, his sweater was gone, and her hands roamed the planes of his chest, down his stomach, until she reached his belt. When they were both down to their underwear, Peeta pulled the blanket off the ground and covered them once more.

“I’ve never done this before,” she said quietly.

He knew this. He knew everything about her, including the three guys she had fooled around with. Occasionally, when he and Katniss went to a party, she would drink enough to get a buzz and disappear with some guy who wouldn’t give her the time of day at school. While every moment she was gone felt like a blade to his gut, none of those guys really mattered. She left every party tucked into Peeta’s side.

“We don’t have to do anything else,” he said.

“Can we go into the bedroom?”

She followed him down the hallway. She went straight for the bed, but he caught her hand before she could lay down.

“I’m in love with you,” he said. “That’s...that’s what this is for me. I don’t want to do this if you don’t feel the same way.”

She stared at him, her expression unreadable. Fear coursed through him, his throat suddenly dry. “I don’t mean I don’t want to leave with you,” he said. “I still want everything I said. I just meant...this part.”

“If I told you I didn’t love you, we’d still leave together? You, me, and Prim?”

“Of course,” he said, even as his heart sank.

“Why?”

He blinked, thrown off by the question. It had been years since she had done this. In the early days of their friendship, she often questioned his motives as if she expected his kindness was actually a cruel trick. 

“You’re my best friend,” he said. “Nothing’s going to change that.”

“Nothing?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

Their next kiss was soft and sweet. She wove her fingers into his hair, her short nails scratching his scalp.

“I love you,” she said. “I have for a really long time.”

Her words were magic. They left him breathless. 

“I didn’t think...I never thought…” She took a step backward and rubbed the top of her chest, right over her heart. “I’m so angry, Peeta. I feel it. All the time. But sometimes when I’m with you, it’s like it’s not there.”

He placed his hand over hers as if he could feel the anger buzzing underneath her skin.

“I never thought you’d feel the same way. I don’t think I wanted you to,” she said.

“Why?”

“Because you’re a good person. The best I know. I’ll never be what you deserve.”

He swept her into a hug. Despite her size, she always seemed so strong, but tonight she felt flimsy and brittle in his arms. He forgot sometimes that she was as breakable as anyone else.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he said into her hair. “I know you don’t believe me, but it’s true. You’re everything to me.”

She pulled him into bed, beneath the comforter. They took their time kissing, exploring, discovering. He found the condoms his brothers had hidden underneath the dresser. She helped roll one on him with trembling hands, and he asked, once more, if she was sure. 

She was.

After, she told him she loved him again, and he promised her that they’d escape, that together they’d make a better life. Wrapped around each other, they fell asleep.

A couple of hours later, Peeta woke up to the thwack of his belt buckle hitting him in the forehead and his mother’s screeching voice.

“Get up! Get up right now!”

Peeta sat up, rubbing his forehead, his heart beating wildly. He could have dealt with literally any other person discovering him and Katniss like this. They were fucked.

“I want her out of here right his second!”

Peeta scooped his underwear off the ground and yanked it on beneath the comforter. Katniss was on the other side of the bed, pulling on her bra and panties.

Meanwhile, his mother wouldn’t shut up. “I should have put an end to this years ago. You’re not to see her again, do you understand me, Peeta?”

He was on his feet, hoping that if he remained calm, his mother would eventually stop yelling. This tactic never worked, but it was the only one he had.

“Just let us get dressed,” he said in a placating tone. “Then we’ll talk about this.”

“Don’t order me around,” Mrs. Mellark warned. “I’m the parent here.”

He placed a hand on his mother’s arm to guide her out of the doorway, but she recoiled. “Don’t touch me!”

“Can you please just let us get dressed?” he asked.

Mrs. Mellark stomped down the hallway. Peeta reached out behind him, and Katniss grabbed his hand. The moment they left the bedroom, their clothes smacked into them. Anger burned in Peeta’s chest as they pulled on their jeans. He so desperately wanted to scream back at his mother, but he kept quiet. The words wouldn’t come.

“How could you be so stupid?” Mrs. Mellark asked as Peeta tugged his sweater on over his head. “Girls like her do this on purpose. She wants you to knock her up, so you’ll take care of her for the rest of her life.”

“Don’t talk about Katniss like that,” Peeta snapped, surprising everyone in the room. He never talked back to his mother, but she had also never badmouthed Katniss to his face before. She made comments here and there, but this was something else.

“She’ll turn out just like her mother,” Mrs. Mellark said. “Strung up on drugs while you’re stuck with a baby. Is that what you want? Your whole life ruined?”

“I said stop!” Peeta shouted. “Katniss isn’t like that.”

“Don’t talk back to me,” Mrs. Mellark warned. “I am your mother.”

“Yeah, such a great mother. Don’t act like you suddenly care about my future or my--”

A smack to his face cut him off. He couldn’t breathe, he was so angry, so humiliated. Even now, at seventeen, his mother terrified him, and he hated it.

He thought he hated her too.

“I put a roof over your head, food in your stomach, clothes on your back! Are you grateful? No, you talk back and sneak around.”

She hit him again, and he desperately wanted to fight back. He knew he was stronger. He could just push her away, grab Katniss, and leave. He didn’t have to stand there and listen, but he couldn’t make himself move.

“This ends tonight,” Mrs. Mellark said. “You’re not to see Katniss again. Not at school, not at the bakery, and certainly not in our house.”

“I won’t,” Peeta said. “You can’t stop me.”

She managed to hit him once more before Katniss grabbed her by the shoulders and slammed her into the wall.

“Are you insane?” Mrs. Mellark demanded, her voice shaking.

“You think it’s okay to hurt him?” Katniss grabbed Mrs. Mellark’s arm and squeezed. “You think I’d just let you?”

“Let go of me!”

Fire burst out of Katniss’s hand and crawled up Mrs. Mellark’s skin. Mrs. Mellark screamed as the flames turned from orange to blue and enveloped her arm. Her knees gave out, and she slid down the wall, but Katniss didn’t let go.

The stench of burning flesh filled Peeta’s nostrils, but the screams were worse. They crawled into his skull and took root there, promising to never leave his memory, but he didn’t move. This time it wasn’t from terror but from a sick curiosity. He wanted to see her suffer.

Mrs. Mellark swung her free arm around until Katniss pinned it to the ground with her knee.

“Please,” Mrs. Mellark begged. “Please.”

Katniss’s other hand lit up. When she wrapped it around Mrs. Mellark’s neck, Peeta’s paralysis disappeared. Katniss had attacked his mother to protect him, and she would suffer the consequences if he didn’t make her stop.

“Katniss, don’t!”

She didn’t seem to hear him. He grabbed her around her waist and tugged her away. The fire in her hands disappeared. He didn’t look at the mess of his mother on the ground, coughing and crying as she cradled her ruined hand to her chest, the flesh still burning. He saw only Katniss and her wide eyes and open mouth.

“Wait,” he said, knowing what would happen next. “It’s okay. Katniss--”

She ran. He followed her down the stairs and out the back door. He caught her before she reached the street.

“Wait!”

“I’m sorry.” Tears streamed down her face. Her hands shook. He tried to hug her, but she jerked away. “I shouldn’t have, I shouldn’t--” She covered her face. 

“Katniss...”

She rubbed the spot above her heart again, as if she could rub out the rage that burned there. “I told you. I told you there’s something wrong with me.”

He grasped her upper arms and forced her to look him in the face. “There is nothing wrong with you. It’s going to be okay.”

She shook her head. “It’s not. Nothing is okay.”

“I love you, Katniss. Nothing is going to change that.”

“Let go of me.”

“Please don’t go. Please.”

She smacked his wrists. It wouldn’t have deterred him if she hadn’t carried a small flame in each palm. It was quick and painless, like an accidental graze from a lighter, but the surprise made him jump back.

Once more, she ran, this time disappearing down the street. He wanted to go after her, but he was barefoot, and it was the middle of the night, and he couldn’t leave his mother on the apartment floor no matter how much he wanted to.

He’d see Katniss tomorrow, or the day after. He’d give her time to calm down, and everything would be okay. He’d make sure the police weren’t involved.

He spent the rest of the night at the hospital with his mother. She was delirious with pain, and it disturbed him how little it bothered him. In the end, the damage was so severe, they amputated her arm from the elbow down. It was a small, strange victory. She lost the hand she used to hit him.

While it was obvious Mrs. Mellark hadn’t been burned by one of the industrial ovens in the bakery, the police didn’t push an investigation after she corroborated Peeta’s story. While she never told him why she lied, he was sure she was scared of Katniss.

Everyone gossiped about Mrs. Mellark’s injury and Katniss’s disappearance, but they never put the two together. No one was surprised Katniss had skipped town.

For years Peeta had cursed the adults in his life for looking the other way when his mother abused him, but now it paid off. Everyone thought Peeta had burned her, and everyone agreed that Mrs. Mellark had had it coming.

Peeta never corrected them. Mostly because he wanted to protect Katniss’s secret, but a part of him liked that people were wary of him now.

He preferred being left alone.

*

“It’s Day Two, and as far as I know, you haven’t requested a transfer,” Finnick said when Peeta showed up for his shift.

“I’ll talk to Boggs before he leaves today. I just wanted a little more time.” 

Once again, he barely slept. He spent hours agonizing over his plan, and all the ways it could fail. While he isn’t lying about his intention to talk to Boggs, he knows he’ll probably have another week here. The prison is short-staffed, and it’ll be difficult to replace him on such short notice.

But if he’s wrong, if Boggs wishes him good luck and declares today his last shift, he’ll have to grab Katniss at dinner.

“Did you tell Everdeen yet?”

“That’s none of your business.” Peeta checks the schedule posted on the wall and frowns at the hastily scrawled words next to Katniss’s name. “Visitor Center? She just had therapy.”

“She’s got a different kind of visitor.”

Dread washes over Peeta. The prisoners here rarely get visitors. Most aren’t allowed to receive them, and those who can have to make the request weeks in advance.

“Coriolanus Snow,” Finnick said. “Guess Dr. Coin delivered Everdeen’s message.”

Is this really what Katniss wanted? Or was she just mouthing off, saying whatever she could think of to end those pointless sessions?

He follows Finnick to Katniss’s cell. Finnick knocks twice and shouts, “Up against the wall!”

Katniss stands in the middle of her cell when the door opens.

“Did you not hear me?” Finnick asks, his hand on his baton. 

“What’s going on?” she asks.

“Nothing is--”

Peeta cuts him off. She deserves a warning. “Snow is here.”

There’s a moment where she doesn’t move, her gaze far away, as she thinks something over. Before Finnick can issue another order, she backs up into the wall and raises her hands.

As soon as Finnick grabs her wrists, she slams her knee into his face, and he stumbles backward. His hands instinctively cover his face, so he doesn’t see the kick coming. She connects with his stomach, and he hits the ground.

This is it. Time for the escape. She’s definitely going about it the wrong way as the rest of the prison will be alerted to her violence in seconds, but at least he doesn’t have to drag her.

She grabs Finnick’s baton from his belt and surges forward. Before Peeta can say a word, she slams the baton into his side. He hits the wall but manages to stay upright.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry,” she says. 

Finnick is back on his feet. He tries to grab her, but she spins around and knocks the baton into his head. This time when he hits the ground, he’s out cold.

There are shouts from the corridor. Katniss glances over her shoulder.

“Get on the ground,” she says.

“What?”

She charges him. He grabs her wrists and yanks them up, squeezing until her grip around the baton loosens, and it slips from her hand.

She knees him in the stomach. As soon as he lets her go, she kicks him in the face, and his vision disappears.

The next second, his cheek is pressed against the cold concrete floor, and Katniss is yelling at the other guards to let her go. Peeta wants to tell them not to hurt her, that there’s been a mistake, but his mouth feels stuffed with cotton.

He blinks, and he’s on a bed in the infirmary, Dr. Abernathy shining a light in his eyes.

“She did a real number on you,” Dr. Abernathy says. “I think. I can’t tell. Your face is already pretty fucked up.”

Peeta groans and sits up. “How long have I been out?”

“Just a few minutes. Enough time to sedate Everdeen and chain her to the table in the Visitor Center.”

The pounding in Peeta’s head fades until there’s only the pulse of fear. “She’s still meeting with Snow?”

“Apparently, Mr. Snow is an important man who came a very long way. He doesn’t give a shit about what she did to you and Odair. He wants to talk to her.”

“I want to see.”

“Yeah, I don’t think they’re going to let you join their chat.”

“I’m going to the command center.” It’s where the guards monitor the entire prison. He can watch from there. Listen, too. The Visitor Center is the only place in the prison that captures audio.

“Boggs wants to speak with you as soon as he’s done taking care of the situation,” Dr. Abernathy says. “I’m supposed to keep you here.”

“Are you?” Peeta demands, eyeing the exit.

Dr. Abernathy throws up his hands and backs away. “I doubt I could if I tried.”

Peeta races to the command center where he finds Homes and Mitchell watching the monitors. Neither guard says a word when Peeta plants himself in front of the Visitor Center screen. Katniss’s back is to the camera, but she sits up straight, her shoulders rigid. Whatever sedative they gave her must have been mild. Enough to calm her down but not knock her out.

“Can you turn up the audio on this?” he asks.

Mitchell nods. A moment later, an unfamiliar voice floods the room.

“--doesn’t appear you wanted to meet me. I heard you attacked two guards when you learned I was here.”

“Sometimes I lash out,” Katniss says. “Did Dr. Coin not tell you? I’m violent and highly unstable.”

Snow chuckles and folds his hands together, resting them on the table. “Well, Miss Everdeen, I’m here. I’d love to hear what you have to say.”

Peeta startles when Finnick appears behind him. Finnick’s face is a mask of bruises and anger.

“I’m not letting you out of my sight until I hand you over to Boggs,” Finnick says. He doesn’t drag him back to the infirmary though. He appears just as interested in Katniss’s conversation with Snow as Peeta is.

“Right.” Katniss nods. “I did promise to reveal a few details about your son’s brutal murder if you showed up.”

Snow doesn’t flinch. He cocks his head to the side and smiles. “Yes, I’m particularly curious about the whereabouts of my grandchildren.”

“You mean you want to know where Crane’s wife is. Delia, right?”

“So she’s alive?”

“Of course. We both know no one hired me to take out your son.”

“So you admit to his murder.”

“Is this how we’re going to do it? I tell the truth while you pretend to be surprised? I guess you can’t admit any of your own misdeeds in here.” She lifts her hands as high as they’ll go and gestures behind her. “Not with the camera.”

“I apologize, Miss Everdeen, but I have no idea what you mean. If we could--”

“You know I killed Seneca, and you know why I did it. There was no reason to harm his wife or children.”

Snow leans forward. “Then where are they? Where have they been for the past five years?”

Katniss shrugs. “I have no idea. Somewhere safe, I hope.”

“You expect me to believe that the three of them disappeared the same night you murdered my son? How convenient for you.”

“You know they’re alive. That’s why you hired Dr. Coin, and that’s why you’re here,” Katniss says. “You’re terrified Delia will resurface and spill all the family secrets.”

“That’s quite the tale you’ve spun.” His mouth twists upward in an ugly approximation of a smile. “Will you plead insanity at your trial?”

“You can discredit me all you want. I don’t care if anyone believes me. The only justice in this world is the kind we take for ourselves.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is revenge.”

“I don’t see why it can’t be a little bit of both.”

There’s a long moment of silence as the two stare at each other. Finally, Snow sighs and pushes his chair back. “I came an awfully long way for the truth, and I’m afraid you’re not going to give it to me.”

“You had my mother and sister killed. How’s that for truth?”

Peeta’s jaw drops. In all the media coverage of the Crane murders, not once did the police mention a personal connection between Katniss and Seneca. When she later became an assassin-for-hire, the police determined it had been her first job. It was the only thing that made sense. Otherwise, it was too random. The Cranes didn’t even live in the same state as the Everdeens.

“That’s quite the accusation,” Snow says.

“When your former lawyer found me and told me what you’d done, I went after Seneca first. It was his fault Prim was dead. Now he’s dead too. You killed her for nothing.”

“I understand it’s hard to deal with the death of loved ones, but concocting a story like this, taking out your anger on an innocent man...you are a deeply disturbed young woman.”

“Prim was nine when you killed her. She was sweet and smart and selfless. She wanted to be a doctor when she grew up. She wanted to help people.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Snow says.

“That’s funny. Seneca apologized right before I killed him too.”

Fire bursts from Katniss’s hands and engulfs Snow and the two guards behind him. Snow hits the ground, writhing as the flames peel back his skin. All three men disappear from view as the flames fill the room, but their tortured screams linger in the air.

The sound transports Peeta back to the night Katniss attacked his mother. This time there is no sick curiosity or pleasure in observing. There is only horror. Despite being on the other side of the prison, Peeta swears he can smell them burn.

Finnick grabs Peeta and shakes him. “Did you know about this?”

Peeta isn’t sure if Finnick means Katniss’s plan to kill Snow, her fire ability, or both, but it doesn’t matter. He can’t find his voice. He looks over Finnick’s shoulder, back to the screen, and watches Katniss pull a set of keys out from the inside of her shirt.

Finnick looks back. As Katniss unlocks her chains, he digs his nails into Peeta’s arms. “You gave her your keys?”

Numb, Peeta barely manages to shake his head.

Finnick pats his pockets. “She took mine. Of course she took mine. Can’t implicate her fucking boyfriend!”

As Homes and Mitchell race out of the Command Center, Peeta looks back at the screen. The Visitor Center is nothing but flames and agony and an empty chair. A siren blares through the prison as the guards prepare for a lockdown. Katniss appears on another screen and opens the first cell she comes to. She sends another wave of fire down the hall before shouting directions to the inmate she just freed.

She moves to the next cell. 

Peeta has to stop this. He can’t let her free these people, but if she gets captured now, she’s dead. There will never be another chance to escape. They’ll lock her up in a special cell like they do for other dangerous meta-humans. They’ll strip her of her remaining privileges and leave her somewhere damp and dark. She won’t be allowed around others. She’ll never see the outdoors again.

Before he can make up his mind, a ring of cold metal closes around his wrist. Finnick yanks him to the ground and locks the other side of the handcuffs around the leg of the table. 

“What are you doing?” Peeta demands.

“You’re staying here.” Finnick races into the hall, slamming the door shut behind him.

Peeta pushes against the table, but it’s bolted to the ground. Pressing his foot against the table leg for leverage, he tugs on the chain of the handcuffs. Something pops in his wrist, and he curses at the pain. He pulls himself up as high as the table will allow and studies the screens.

Chaos. Guards and inmates clash on one monitor while inmates unlock cells on another. A handful of meta-humans tear through the prison, destroying everything in their path. Peeta hits the keyboard, and the screens change over and over until he finds her.

She no longer carries keys or stops to free inmates. She jogs down the hallway, ignoring the destruction behind her. Every few seconds she shoots a fireball to clear her path of guards. 

Peeta glances back at the Visitor Center. While the room is no longer on fire, the bodies still burn, clogging the air with smoke. The damage is so severe he can no longer tell who is who. No wonder Katniss attacked him. Her plan was to kill Snow, even if it cost the two guards in the room their lives.

She didn’t care who those guards were as long as Peeta wasn’t one of them.

The back of his head prickles. Lightheadedness sends him back to the ground as he realizes all this chaos is his fault. Katniss was adamant about remaining in prison, but Thorne demanded a riot. She thought she could refuse, but then Peeta showed up with bruises. She knew if she didn’t take action, Thorne would kill him.

This riot, her escape, is to save him.

He looks back at the screens. There is still fighting, but there are bodies now too. Bullet wounds, broken necks, burned skin. 

He finds Katniss just in time to see her burst out the front door of the prison. She sends a wall of fire toward the guards that await her as prisoners rush out around her. Some stop to fight with the guards while others run toward the fence. A few try to scale it until a meta-human rips off the gate. Prisoners pour into the street and disappear down the road.

Katniss pauses in the midst of the chaos, closes her eyes, and tilts her head up toward the sun.


End file.
